Dark Tale Diaries

Blackthorn Printing made a splash in the publishing world with the introduction of Dark Tales Diaries, yet despite his efforts, Tristan Blackthorn isn’t any closer to finding the woman he seeks. Unwilling to give up on his lost love, his search for Keira continues in Volume Two.

A voyeuristic moment leads an astronomy professor and his assistant to a steamy endeavor on The Observation Deck.

An invitation for cocktails has the reclusive woman who lives in 204-B pondering why the handsome, wealthy owner of her building would invite her to anything. Does she have enough guts to go to The Top Floor?

And a Maestro strikes the right cord with a young and talented cellist who is trying to find her passion.

“What new story have you added? One of love? Intrigue? A tale of the forbidden?” I inquired while eyeing the leather bound book.

Keira laid it aside, and rose to her feet. “I’ll read them to you, someday.”

She slipped out of her white cotton dress, leaving her sandals in the wake of snow-colored material at my feet. I leaned my back against the trunk of the tree, pretending to rest, but in truth, rest was the furthest thing from my mind.

Keira twirled on the ball of her foot, more graceful than any dancer.

“Do that again,” I said.

The sun broke through the leaves on the trees, and set her long raven tresses into brilliant highlights that shimmered in deepened shades of blue-black. I couldn’t take my eyes off her. She alone encapsulated perfection, with her small, pert breasts slightly covered by her long hair, and when she moved, the gumdrop point of a pale-pink nipple peeked through some of the strands. She raised her arms above her head, giving me a full view of her extended frame, and did something of a provocative pirouette before turning to face the pond.

Her slender waist gave way to rounded hips that swayed seductively as she tiptoed, nude, toward the edge of the water. She stuck one toe in, and looked at me over her slender shoulder. Her jewel-green eyes penetrated my soul.

Keira twisted her long hair up, and used the dark pieces that fell from her fingers to weave her tresses into a tied-off knot, freeing the canvas of her back. The dappled shade that fell from one of the overhanging branches caressed the curve of her spine like a long lost lover, and in that instant I wanted to kiss the dimples above her heart-shaped ass. The thought stirred up something much more primal.

“Are you coming?” she asked.

When Keira licked the plumpness of her lips, my cock ached for her.

“Definitely,” I said, and stood from my shaded spot under the oak, toeing off my shoes in a hurry, before ridding myself of my shirt and pants.

Once free of my clothing, I bounded toward her. She grinned and jumped before my hand made contact with her arm. I wasted no time, and followed in behind her. Our heads popped to the surface in unison, with her joyous laughter filling the air.

“I bet you can’t catch me,” she taunted in a cutesy voice before diving beneath the murky pool.

I studied the trail of bubbles and waves she made, guessing where she might come up, then made my way onto the grassy bank, crossed over the plank bridge, and hopped into the water off the south bank. When she resurfaced, I snatched her up.

“Got you,” I said, and placed a kiss to her lips.

She wiggled. Her moist mouth left mine. “No fair, Tristan. You were supposed to swim and catch me, not cheat, and wait until I ran out of air.”

“You never outlined the rules. And besides, I play to win.”

Keira, shook her head. Water rolled along her nose, over her parted lips, and down her chin before the wandering drop found its home in the pond.

“I know you do,” she said, rubbing her nose against mine. “That’s one of the things I love about you.”

“What else do you love about me?”

“I’m not telling.”

I placed my lips to her tempting neck, traced a line with the tip of my nose to the end of her ear, and sucked her lobe into my mouth. “What if I persuade you to tell me?”

She moaned my name, and draped her arms around my neck. “Don’t stop doing that, and I might be persuaded.”

Keira wrapped her long legs around my waist. The head of my hard cock slipped between our two intertwined bodies. She pressed herself against me, tighter. Warmth worked its way through my essence as I slid my manhood in-between her parted lower lips. I wanted to explore all of her with my hands, my dick, and my mouth. One hand remained on the back of her slim neck while the other left her lower back to discover the wonder of her ass. Flames, not water lapped at my skin with a desire beyond words.

For years, Tristan Blackthorn has toiled to find his lost love. He finally decides to use Blackthorn Printing, along with his newly created Dark Tales Diaries, as a way to find her. Will her story be one of the three tales in Volume One?

Mistress Guinevere’s calling card is her Red Stilettos. She specializes in a particular fetish and always maintains her control, until a man from her past returns to test her will.

A recently divorced woman experiences the effects of empty nest syndrome after her twins head off to college. With the clock ticking away, she decides it’s far past time to seek out something that has always eluded her. Will she find what she’s looking for withThe Leather’s Edge?

And a bored computer programmer learns what it’s like to feel sexual freedom after being bound by a Master in Safe Word.

London wrote her first short story in the second grade. Her teacher informed her parents London had a big imagination, but having a big imagination wasn’t necessarily a good thing as far as he was concerned. Without watering that seed of imagination, London placed her vivid characters, her childhood stories, along with her imagination on the shelf, where they would wither for a while. At the urging of her eighth grade English teacher, London pulled her imagination off that shelf, and wrote her second short story. To no surprise, it was a love story inspired by a song. Then as life does, it moves on, so yet again London placed her imagination on the shelf to wither for a while. She needed to do the “sensible thing.”

The sensible thing earned London a degree in Psychology, but while in college she traversed into writing once more, and was encouraged by a couple of professors to pursue that endeavor. She took on the world of written word, and has never looked back.

London writes erotic romance from sweet to downright naughty. She is an author for Evernight Publishing, a member of the Romance Writers of America, and a member of Passionate Ink.